


remembered

by definitely_human



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Confession, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Tooth Rotting Fluff, but not really, literally sleeping together, mutual pining but langa doesnt know, reki is a sleep talker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitely_human/pseuds/definitely_human
Summary: uh, here. have this i guess. i never know what to write in the notes so ig, i hope you enjoyed? i had this weird vivid hc while i was sobbing abt ep 7 again. bc apparently thats all i do now. anywhore, have a nice day
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki
Comments: 5
Kudos: 196





	remembered

Langa pined. That was what he was best at really: pining. So insanely competent at pining that he never felt the need to act because acting was scary. And pining was... less scary? Yeah. That's what he told himself at least. That as long as he only pined, only stole glances or chased laughter, captured smiles in his secret memory jars and recorded conversations that he would replay late at night when he couldn't seem to shut his exhausted eyes. As long as that was all, nothing would have to change.

And god, Reki was so easy to pine for. His vibrant hair, red like a burning sky. He had amber eyes, they set alight when he was excited. His eyes were on fire when he skated. On rare occasions, Langa thought his eyes caught fire when he looked at him. Only two or three times maybe. Because Reki couldn't like Langa back. It was simply impossible

Reciprocated feelings were a pipe dream. So langa settled for pining. That felt good enough. 

One evening, when they had returned home from S, Reki invited Langa to stay over. He told him, “It's dark Langa, and it saw it was supposed to rain. Plus it's just more convenient.” He said it with a shrug. Like this night wasn't going to change Langas life. 

Reki Kyan was a sloppy sleeper. He tossed and turned and mumbled and snored. On occasion he would stand up and walk about the house. Once he had opened every single cupboard door in the kitchen then simply returned to his room and laid back down. So when they realised that it would be too loud to grab the extra futon from the hallway closet, and Reki told Langa that he should just sleep in the same bed, Reki warned him. “Langa, I'm literally a disgusting sleeper, if you wake up covered in drool, you're not allowed to blame me. I'm not in charge of my body, it does whatever the hell it wants.” 

Langa just smiled. That was fine. If he did wake up covered in Reki drool, he probably would never wash that shirt again. He’d hide it in a safe under his bed. Or in a booby trapped crypt in the jungle. It would be precious. 

That night, Langa barely slept. Not for lack of trying, and certainly not for lack of comfort. Sleeping next to Reki was warm. It felt safe and comfortable, like there was absolutely no way anything bad could ever happen to him. So long as he was by Rekis side. 

The room was dark, shaddows cloaking the walls, hiding the socks under the desk, disappearing the faces of the men on the skateboards that Reki had pasted to his walls. The moon shone steadily though, it pressed its cold fingers in through the window and tip toed its way across the ceiling in crisp lines. 

Langa could hear Rekis breathing, the steady flow of air, reminding Langa constantly of his presence. The smell of his shampoo was faint, like cucumbers, maybe, or coconut. Reki rolled over in his sleep and wrapped one arm and one leg around Langas still body, he shoved his head into the small divet between Langas shoulder and his chest, not quite over his heart. 

Langa thought that maybe, if he moved his head a couple inches, the rapid beating of his heart would wake him. 

Reki really was a sleep talker, he mumbled and cursed and whispered nonsensical things. Langa remembered every sound Reki made that night, all the “Woah”s and the “Wow! That was amazing”s. Langa remembered the soft whines and the little grunts, the whispered praises and the quiet criticisms. He must be dreaming of skating. 

Langa wondered who Reki skated with in his dreams. He wondered if it was Joe maybe, if he dreamed of them riding down hills and jumping over boulders. He wondered if he dreamed of skating with Miya, flipping and turning and spinning and soaring. Or maybe with Cherry, skirting around tight corners and speeding down straightaways. 

Langa hoped he dreamed of skating with him. Hoped he dreamt the same things as he did. Because Langa dreamed of skating with Reki. Most of there were practically memories, he dreamt that the first time he nailed an ollie, Reki grabbed his hand instead of high fiving it. He dreamed that he intertwined their fingers and brought his hand up to his lips, he dreamed that Reki kissed his hand and told him he was proud of Langa. 

He dreamed that when they sat at the skate park watching the steadily setting sun, Langa was allowed to hold Rekis hand. It would be ok if he kissed him, it would be acceptable if he leaned into his side and tucked his head into his shoulder and that Reki would lay his own head on top. 

Langa dreamed a lot. And he hoped Reki dreamed the same things. 

He was pulled from his fantasies by the tickle of soft hair under his chin and the desperate press of Rekis face digging further into Langas chest. Reki let out a soft noise, it was like a mouse waking up after a hibernation. Langa thought it was adorable. Everything Reki did was adorable. Or cute. Or hot. Or just plain perfect. 

He shoved his nose into Langas skin, so close, that Langa could feel his breaths through the thin fabric of his shirt. In a moment of bravery, Langa moved his hand from his side and brought it up to finger the strands of perfect red hair. It felt impossibly soft under his fingertips, like something magic. Langa threaded his slender fingers further in. He could feel where the fine hairs snagged on his scabs, the way he couldn't feel it thought his band aids. Those parts of his fingers felt unbearably empty. 

Langa remembered everything from that night. He remembered the way the moon moved across the sky, sluggishly, as if it was dragging its feet, refusing to let the sun rise. He remembered the scent of wood that lingered everywhere, he remembered the smell of cucumber-coconut and the creaking sounds of the home settling. But the thing he remembered most, out of every perfect moment, was when Rekis hand clenched around the fabric of Langas shirt and the words that fell from his tired mouth. He remembered when Reki whispered,

"I love you."

Reki Kyan was a sleep talker. but for those three words, he was wide awake.

**Author's Note:**

> uh, here. have this i guess. i never know what to write in the notes so ig, i hope you enjoyed? i had this weird vivid hc while i was sobbing abt ep 7 again. bc apparently thats all i do now. anywhore, have a nice day


End file.
